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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176523">I Got a Sweet Tooth - It Gets the Best of Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze'>TheseusInTheMaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baking, Courtship, F/F, Love Potion/Spell, Masturbation, Pining, Student/Teacher, foot rub</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:48:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabrina didn't have a crush or anything like that. She was just showing her appreciation. Through baking. Totally normal!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sabrina Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Eat Drink and Make Merry 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Got a Sweet Tooth - It Gets the Best of Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/gifts">listlessness</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Season one, as told through baked goods.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sabrina knew, in her heart of hearts, that this was a bad idea. </p><p>This had seemed like a good idea, when she had seen the bowl of fruit on the kitchen table, but now that she was standing here, at the end of the day, it all felt a bit… silly. </p><p>Miss Wardwell paused in her gathering up of papers. "Can I help you, Sabrina?" She gave Sabrina a slightly puzzled smile, and Sabrina smiled back, giving a nervous giggle. </p><p>"Oh, uh…" Sabrina cleared her throat, and pulled the apple out of her bag, setting it on the desk. "Since we were discussing Paradise Lost," she said, "I thought it would be appropriate. The symbolism and whatnot." She rocked on her heels, and prayed that her cheeks weren't as red as the apple. “Plus, you know, the, uh, the tradition.” She cleared her throat, rubbed her hands together. </p><p>"Oh!" Miss Wardwell smiled, and it seemed to light up her whole face. Sabrina resolutely ignored the way it woke up butterflies in her stomach. "Why, thank you!" She picked the apple up, polishing it on the sleeve of her sweater. "This is probably a sign," she said, her expression rueful. "I've been over indulgent lately."</p><p>"Over indulgent?" Sabrina fiddled with the strap of her bag. </p><p>"Lots of cookies," said Miss Wardwell. "I really do love them - sweets in general. But I <i>should</i> be eating more healthy food."</p><p>"I'm glad to have helped, then," Sabrina said, and she gave what she hoped was a <i>totally</i> casual smile. "I'm gonna head home now."</p><p>"Do be careful," Miss Wardwell said. "You never know what may be lurking in the woods."</p><p>"I will," Sabrina promised, and then she was out the door, pressing her fingers to her overheated cheeks as she walked down the empty hallway. </p><p>* * *</p><p>"Sabrina, what are you doing?" Ambrose leaned against the kitchen counter, managing to look artfully disheveled, like some old illustration of Lord Byron. </p><p>"I'm making cookies," Sabrina said, as she carefully sliced into the pre-packaged tube of cookie dough, settling the lumpy rounds onto the pan in front of her. </p><p>"You know Aunt Hilda will whip you up a batch in no time," said Ambrose, drumming his fingers on the countertop. </p><p>"I want to make these myself," Sabrina said. She brought the knife down with an especially loud "thud" - the dough was frozen, and didn't want to cut. The knife would need sharpening when she was done. </p><p>"I don't know if it counts as you making them yourself, if you're cutting them off of pre-made cookie dough," said Ambrose. "You could have made the dough yourself. Or gotten Aunt Hilda to make it."</p><p>"That's different," said Sabrina. Her face was turning red, all the way up to her hairline, and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything else. </p><p>"What's so different, then?" Ambrose sat down, his legs stretched out in front of him, his elbows on the table. </p><p>"When I buy it, it isn't considered someone else making it, since it was made… industrially." Sabrina made a vague hand motion. "You know, the anonymity and disconnect of the modern world."</p><p>Ambrose raised an eyebrow. </p><p>"Can't hurt to try," Sabrina mumbled, and cut another chunk. </p><p>"What's wrong with making your own cookie dough? Are you going to be doing magic on it?"</p><p>"Not big magic," said Sabrina. "Just… a little something." She set more discs of frozen cookie dough onto the tray. "And I just wanted to make sure that it was <i>good</i> cookie dough." At least she didn't sound defensive, right? .</p><p>"You don't have enough trust in your own talents, cousin," Ambrose said. "So what's the occasion for the cookie making?"</p><p>"A little something," Sabrina repeated, "a welcome back to school gift." If she kept it neutral, he wouldn't be able to pry too much, would he?</p><p>"For anyone in particular?" Ambrose was entirely too canny. "Maybe Harvey?"</p><p>"No," Sabrina lied. "No, not for anyone special at all." She cut off another chunk and arranged it on the tray. </p><p>"Well," said Ambrose, "I certainly hope this nobody special enjoys their cookies." He stood up and snagged a bit of dough, making his way up the stairs with a spring in his step. </p><p>Sabrina rolled her eyes at him, but she was grinning in spite of herself. Oh, Ambrose.<br/>
It still counted as a meaningful gift if it was only a <i>little</i> pre-made, right? </p><p>	Sabrina looked down at the lumpy piles on the tray, and then she rubbed her hands together. She'd baked things before, although usually with Aunt Hilda's help. And okay, Aunt Hilda was usually the one who did all the metaphorical heavy lifting, but... still. </p><p>	The spell was just a little one. A good luck spell, that would stick around as long as the sugar stayed in their system. It was just a nice gesture. Totally normal. </p><p>	Sabrina tried to ignore the way her cheeks heated up as she chanted over the dough, but the little gold flashes sank into the dough, and that was all that mattered, right? </p><p>* * *</p><p>	"Miss Wardwell?" Sabrina cleared her throat, and she fished around in her bag. There were butterflies in her stomach, and she was going to ignore them, because they were <i>stupid</i>. She might have a crush on her teacher, but that was completely normal. </p><p>	<i>Completely</i>. </p><p>	She licked her lips - her mouth was so dry, and her hands were so sweaty. </p><p>	Focus, Spellman!</p><p>	Miss Wardwell looked up from her desk, and she smiled. "Hello, Sabrina," she said. "How can I help you?"</p><p>	"Um," said Sabrina, and she cleared her throat, standing under the lintel of Miss Wardwell's office door. "Can I come in?"</p><p>	"You're always welcome, Sabrina," said Miss Wardwell, and her tone was warm. "What can I do for you?"</p><p>	"I, uh... I was making cookies, for my aunt's book club," Sabrina lied, "but they didn't all get eaten. So I thought you might like some. Since you said you like cookies." She took the old tin out, and she set it out on Miss Wardwell's desk. It <i>clunk</i>ed gently from all the cookies inside. </p><p>	"Oh, Sabrina," said Miss Wardwell, and her expression went soft. "That was so sweet. Thank you!" </p><p>	"You, uh, you don't have to eat them," Sabrina said quickly. "Or even take them. If you don't want them. But if you'd like them, you're, uh, you're free to." She wiped her sweaty hands across the front of her skirt.</p><p>	"I'd love one," said Miss Wardwell. "What flavor are they?"</p><p>	"Oh, uh, just sugar cookies," said Sabrina. She watched Miss Wardwell take a cookie out of the tin and take a bite out of it. </p><p>	"These are delicious," Miss Wardwell said, and she was spilling crumbs down the front of her shirt. There was something so endearingly messy about it, and it made Sabrina's cheeks heat up. "Sugar cookies are my second favorite!"</p><p>	"What are your favorite-favorite?" Sabrina wasn't sure why she was waiting with bated breath. </p><p>	"Almond cookies," said Miss Wardwell. "I've always had a weakness for them." She grinned, and it made her nose wrinkle, her eyes squinting a little behind her glasses. "My mother used to read mystery novels <i>religiously</i>, and she'd tease me that if she ever wanted to do me in like in one of them, she'd just need to put some cyanide in some almond cookies, and I wouldn't be able to tell."</p><p>	"That's a dark joke," Sabrina said, before she had a chance to think. "Not that there's anything wrong with dark jokes," she added quickly. "Dark jokes are great."</p><p>	"My mother had a dark sense of humor," Miss Wardwell agreed. "And at least with sugar cookies, I'd be able to tell if I was being poisoned." She took another cookie, and she was still grinning. "Thank you very much, Sabrina."</p><p>	"You're welcome," said Sabrina, and she gave a little half wave. "I'll, uh... I'll be going. See you tomorrow, Miss Wardwell." </p><p>	"Get home safe, Sabrina," said Miss Wardwell.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	"You know," said Ambrose, a month later, "if it was a week before my Dark Baptism, and I was about to go off to the Academy, I wouldn't be spending the night at home with my family. I'd be off partying with my mortal friends, getting into mischief with my mortal boyfriend."</p><p>	"As if you'd ever have a mortal boyfriend," said Sabrina, carefully stirring the sliced up almonds into the cookie dough. "Why don't we have a stand mixer?" Her shoulder ached from trying to mash up the butter, to get it to combine with the sugar.</p><p>	"Generally, it's expected for you to wait for the butter to be less <i>solid</i> before you try to do anything with it," said Ambrose. He took a bite out of his apple, and the crunch of it was very loud in the small kitchen. </p><p>	"Still," said Sabrina. "It would make things a lot easier."</p><p>	"What would make things easier?" Aunt Hilda came in from outside, wearing gardening gloves and carrying a basket of beets. "Lovely crop we've got, this year. I should do pickled eggs again."</p><p>	"Oo, yes please," said Ambrose. </p><p>	"You'll have to help me boil the eggs," Aunt Hilda said. “Harvey’s always liked those, you can give him a jar or two.”</p><p>	“Give him some breath mints, too,” said Ambrose. “Wouldn’t wanna kiss anyone who’s been eating <i>beet pickled eggs</i>.” </p><p>	“You both need to eat them,” said Aunt HIlda, setting the basket down on the counter. “Makes it fair.”  </p><p>	“Suicide pact,” Ambrose agreed. </p><p>	Sabrina stuck her tongue out at them, but she was grinning in spite of herself. </p><p>"What are you making, love?" She leaned over Sabrina's shoulder, to look into the bowl.</p><p>	"Almond cookies," Sabrina said. She could feel her cheeks turning red, and she resolutely tried to ignore it. "I'm using your recipe. If that's okay."</p><p>	"'course it's okay," Aunt Hilda said. "But it'll be easier if you let the butter soften first." </p><p>	“That’s what I said,” said Ambrose.</p><p>	“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Sabrina said. <i>If there is a next time</i>, she added mentally. </p><p>	"Did you add almond extract already?" Aunt Hilda grabbed a colander, and she dumped the beets into it. </p><p>	"No, I was gonna wait until the cookies were a little less, uh... solid." Sabrina kept prodding the dough. As hard as she was stirring, it felt a bit like the wooden spoon she was using should have been creaking. </p><p>	"I do, in fact, have a point sometimes," Ambrose said. He reached into the bowl, taking a pinch of cookie dough and eating it.</p><p>	"Excuse you," Sabrina said. "Have you washed your hands?"</p><p>	"You're going to put it in the oven," Ambrose said, unfazed. "That'll decontaminate it."</p><p>	"That isn't <i>sanitary</i>," Sabrina complained, and she swatted at Ambrose as he went to take another nibble.</p><p>	"You should add the almond extract," said Ambrose. "They need something."</p><p>	"Do you want to make them?" Sabrina brandished the bowl at him. </p><p>	"Then they wouldn't be <i>your</i> cookies, would they, cousin?" Ambrose smirked.</p><p>	Aunt Hilda leaned over, and took her own pinch of dough, nibbling it thoughtfully. "Needs more salt," she said. </p><p>	"Did you at least wash your hands first?" Sabrina scolded.</p><p>	"I was wearing gloves," said Hilda, serene as ever.</p><p>	Sabrina sighed. "Germ theory," she said. "Do either of you <i>ever</i> pay attention to germ theory?"</p><p>	"I don't worry about it," said Ambrose. "We're witches. Witches don't get sick." </p><p>	"I'm making these for a mortal," said Sabrina. "Who <i>can</i> get sick." She frowned. "Where's the almond extract?"</p><p>	"In the cupboard," said Aunt Hilda, "next to the corn syrup."</p><p>	"Don't mix those up," Ambrose added.</p><p>	"And don't use more than half a teaspoon," Aunt Hilda said, "or Harvey is gonna think that you're trying to murder him with cyanide."</p><p>	"These aren't for Harvey," Sabrina said. The butter had finally softened, and the butter and sugar were <i>finally</i> blending. "Pass the eggs, please."</p><p>	"Not for Harvey?" Aunt Hilda raised an eyebrow, and Sabrina tried to ignore the way her cheeks were turning pink. </p><p>	"Nope," said Sabrina. "They're not."</p><p>	"So who <i>are</i> they for?" Aunt Hilda handed Sabrina a carton of eggs. </p><p>	"Miss Wardwell," said Sabrina, and she was pretty sure her <i>ears</i> were turning red at this point. </p><p>	"Was she the one you made those other cookies for?" Ambrose teased. </p><p>	Sabrina cleared her throat. "Yeah," she said. </p><p>	"Are you trying to butter up to a teacher in hopes of a better grade?" Aunt Hilda turned the sink on, and was beginning to wash the beets. "Because I know a spell that would work better. Probably be easier on your shoulder, too."</p><p>	Sabrina cleared her throat. "I'm not trying to butter up to anyone," she said. "I'm just... being nice."</p><p>	"By making cookies for your mortal teacher," said Ambrose. "Are you making cookies for any of your <i>other</i> teachers?" </p><p>	"Well, no," said Sabrina. She cracked an egg into the dough, and began to stir again. It was a lot easier, as the liquid soaked in. "Why do they tell you to put in one egg at a time?"</p><p>	"So it has time to absorb the liquid," said Aunt Hilda. "I think it's sweet," she added. "I used to make cookies for my favorite teachers, too." She patted Sabrina on the shoulder. "Just continuing the Spellman tradition."</p><p>	"Of buttering people up with baked goods," said Ambrose, his tone deadpan. </p><p>	"Well, of course there's butter. Most good sweets have butter in 'em." Aunt Hilda grinned, and Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Don't put in too much almond extract," she told Sabrina. "Ambrose, come help me with these beets."</p><p>	"Yes, auntie," said Ambrose with a sigh. He rolled his sleeves up, and made his way to the sink. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	Sabrina leaned into Miss Wardwell's office, clutching at another cookie tin. </p><p>	Miss Wardwell looked up, and she smiled. "Hello, Sabrina," she said. "How can I help you?"</p><p>	"I, uh, I remembered what you said, about almond cookies being your favorite," said Sabrina. "And my aunts made some more for their book club, so I thought you might like some. Since we've got leftovers."</p><p>	"Oo, thank you very much," said Miss Wardwell. "I can't imagine letting almond cookies last long enough to get <i>leftovers</i> in my house." She gestured for Sabrina to come in. </p><p>	Sabrina walked into the office, full of nervous energy. <i>You're a witch, not a vampire</i>, she scolded herself mentally, as she set the cookie tin on the desk.</p><p>	"Share one with me," said Miss Wardwell, "since you went to the trouble of bringing them."</p><p>	"I, uh, I made them," Sabrina said, and she was blushing. "It's why they're a little lumpy."</p><p>	"They look absolutely delicious," said Miss Wardwell, lifting up the lid of the tin. The scent of almonds filled the room, and Sabrina tried not to wrinkle her nose. It had been a bit less... potent, in her kitchen. She'd followed her aunt's advice about how much extract to use, but she'd ended up spilling a bit into the batter, as she was pouring it. </p><p>	Still, it couldn't be too bad, could it?</p><p>	Miss Wardwell took a bite of a particularly lumpy cookie, and she smiled as it crunched. "Delicious," she told Sabrina, her tone earnest. "You're an excellent baker."</p><p>	"Thank you," Sabrina said, and she was blushing all the way to her hairline. </p><p>	"I do appreciate all the baking you've done for me, Sabrina," Miss Wardwell said. "It's nice to feel appreciated."</p><p>	"I'll always appreciate you," Sabrina told Miss Wardwell, her tone fervent. "Even if I end up having to... transfer schools, or something like that, I'll still come by and visit."</p><p>	Miss Wardwell ate another cookie, seemingly unbothered by just how lumpy it was. "Well," said Miss Wardwell, "I do appreciate it." She glanced out the window, then, and frowned. "You should probably start heading home, though," she said. "It's getting dark. Wouldn't want to have to walk through the woods all alone."</p><p>	"I'm not too worried," said Sabrina, "but... thank you." She gave an awkward little half wave, and she walked out of the office. She waited until she had turned a corner to cover her face with both hands, her palms cool against her hot cheeks, her heart beating desperately in her chest.</p><p>	<i>She liked them</i>, whispered the small, excitable part of her mind. <i>She really, really liked them!</i> </p><p>	She might have been whistling, as she made her way back home, but nobody else had to know that. Absolutely nobody.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	"What are you doing?" Aunt Zelda watched Sabrina with narrowed eyes, as the girl puttered around the kitchen, taking down tins, occasionally pausing to prod at a stick of butter that she'd left on a plate on the counter.</p><p>	"I'm making brownies," said Sabrina. </p><p>	It was nice, to be having a civil conversation with Aunt Zelda. Ever since the <i>disaster</i> of her Dark Baptism, and then the court case, things had been... well, a tad chilly between them. They’d get over it - they always did - but the frigid days between were always a tad unpleasant to weather. </p><p>	"Why are you making <i>brownies</i>?" Aunt Zelda drummed her fingers on the countertop. </p><p>	"Just... felt like baking," said Sabrina. </p><p>	<i>I'm anxious and nervous and antsy about going to the Academy after everything that happened, and I figure I might as well channel that into doing something nice for the teacher I sorta-kinda have a crush on</i> wasn't exactly the sort of thing she'd want to say to anyone. Let alone Aunt Zelda. </p><p>	"Are you taking after Hilda's proclivity for the domestic arts?" </p><p>	Sabrina didn't need to look at her aunt to know what sort of face she was probably pulling. "It's good to have a hobby," she said. "Especially a productive one."</p><p>	"You could be  practicing your enchantments, or working on your conjuring," said Zelda. "Why <i>brownies</i>?" </p><p>	<i>Because something is different about Miss Wardwell, in a way that I can't put my finger on, and I don't know if she'd like my almond cookies anymore</i>, Sabrina didn't say. "Because I like brownies," she said instead, "and they're easy to transport."</p><p>	"Where would you be transporting them?" </p><p>	"Just to school," said Sabrina. "There's, uh, there's a Teacher's Appreciation Day coming up, and I thought I'd make some brownies for Miss Wardwell."</p><p>	"Didn't you just make her cookies?" Aunt Zelda's voice was tinged with suspicion. </p><p>		"Not that long ago, no," Sabrina said. She opened the fridge, keeping her eyes on the interior, and then she turned to Aunt Zelda. "Would Aunt Hilda mind if I used some of the fresh strawberries? For the brownies, I mean."</p><p>	Aunt Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Why would you be putting <i>strawberries</i> in brownies?" She took a puff of her cigarette.</p><p>	"Well," Sabrina said, "I feel like plain brownies are just a little too... y'know. Plain." She made a vague hand motion, although she was still blushing all the way up to her ears.</p><p>	"I don't remember you putting this much effort into anything previously," Zelda said tartly. "What's brought on this rush of domestic feeling?" </p><p>	"I just... wanted to do something constructive, that didn't involve the Dark Lord," said Sabrina.</p><p>	"Sabrina, <i>everything</i> we do involves the Dark Lord," said Aunt Zelda. "He is with us always." </p><p>	Sabrina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well," she said, "he's more <i>indirectly</i> involved with baking."</p><p>	"You should bake him an offering. As an apology," said Aunt Zelda. </p><p>	Sabrina took Aunt Hilda's kitchen scale and a bowl out of the cupboard, then the big jar of sugar. "I don't think he likes baked goods," said Sabrina.</p><p>	"Nonsense. He's always been fond of sweet things." Aunt Zelda stayed leaning against the counter, as Sabrina squinted down at the cookbook and began to slice up the butter, setting it out on the scale.</p><p>	"I'll think about it," Sabrina said. "About making the Dark Lord something."</p><p>	Aunt Zelda put a hand on Sabrina's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sure your teacher will enjoy the brownies," she said. "You've always excelled at most of the things you try."</p><p>	Sabrina smiled, and she covered Aunt Zelda's hand with her own, and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks," she said, and then she let go, and went back to putting butter on the scale.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	"Miss Wardwell," said Sabrina, once again standing in the doorway of Miss Wardwell's office. "Hi." </p><p>	Miss Wardwell looked up, and when their eyes met, Sabrina shivered. There was an intensity that she didn't remember. "Sabrina," she said, and she smiled. Something about the smile was sending chills up and down Sabrina's spine, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.</p><p>	Her teacher <i>did</i> look different. Her hair was down, and her clothes, while just as modest, looked much less... frumpy, for lack of a better way of putting it. Sabrina could actually see her teacher's bare arms, and the curve of her hips. She tried not to think about that, as she held the tin of brownies. </p><p>	"Can I help you, Sabrina?" Miss Wardwell wasn't wearing her glasses anymore, and it looked like she had painted her nails a new shade of red. It caught the light, even in the dimness of the office.</p><p>	"I, um." Sabrina licked her lips, and the familiar lie rose up in her throat. <i>My aunts had book club; I made something; there's leftovers.</i> And then it died, because Miss Wardwell's expression seemed to pin her to the wall. "I made brownies," she said. "They have strawberries in them."</p><p>	"That's certainly novel," said Miss Wardwell. She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table.</p><p>	"I... made them for you," Sabrina said, and she licked her lips. "I thought you might like them." She was blushing redder than a strawberry at this point, although she probably shouldn't have been making that comparison. </p><p>	"Well, I must insist that you share them with me, if that's the case," said Miss Wardwell. "Since you put so much work into them."</p><p>	"I... thank you," said Sabrina. She licked her lips, and she put the tin down onto the desk. "I'm sorry they're not really... pretty, but I'm still kinda new at baking."</p><p>	"I'm sure they'll be fine," Miss Wardwell said. "These kinds of things take practice."</p><p>	"You did seem to enjoy the cookies," said Sabrina, and was that the wrong thing to say? Miss Wardwell was frowning.</p><p>	"Cookies?" </p><p>	"You know," said Sabrina. "The almond cookies?" <i>She didn't like them. She must have thrown them out and was pretending to like them, oh Satan I messed up.</i> "The ones I made a few weeks ago?"</p><p>	"Oh!" Miss Wardwell's face lit up. "Yes! Those were absolutely <i>delicious</i>." She smiled that same smile, and there seemed to be entirely too many teeth. "I'd even go so far as to say... sinful." She was keeping eye contact, and Sabrina wasn't entirely sure why she was blushing so hard.</p><p>	"Sin is relative," she blurted out, and then she sat down hard on the chair in front of Miss Wardwell's desk, and opened up the tin, before she could say anything else. </p><p>	The brownies were... not exactly picture perfect. Bits of strawberry were lumped up under the chocolate, and they were a bit singed on the ends, although it was hard to tell, with the chocolate. </p><p>	"That's a very nuanced take," said Miss Wardwell. She took a brownie out from the ugly pile, and she bit into it. Then she <i>moaned</i>, and Sabrina's lower belly clenched like a fist. "These are amazing, Sabrina; please, have one!"</p><p>	Sabrina cleared her throat, and she took a brownie out of the tin. The scent of chocolate was like a kick to the face, and she was acutely aware of Miss Wardwell’s eyes on her as she took a bite. </p><p>	There was a big chunk of strawberry in the brownie that Sabrina had picked, and the sweetness was like a flash of light in her mouth, contrasting sharply with the burnt edge. She chewed it carefully, the chocolate chips crunching against her molars, the sweet fruit still juicy against her tongue, and then she swallowed.</p><p>	“You’re turning into quite the pastry chef, aren’t you, Sabrina?” Miss Wardwell took another bite of brownie. “I must confess, I’ve been enjoying the fruits of your labors.”</p><p>	<i>It sounds so dirty when she says it like that</i>, thought Sabrina. “I’m glad,” she said, and she was aware of how faint her voice sounded in her own ears. She didn’t want to think about what it must have sounded like to Miss Wardwell. </p><p>	Miss Wardwell took another bite, and her eyes fluttered shut. She hummed, and Sabrina shivered, her toes curling in her shoes. She wanted… she wasn’t entirely sure what it was that she wanted. She had a feeling she would be hearing that noise echoing through her head late at night in bed, though, while her hand worked between her thighs. </p><p>	“Thank you <i>so</i> much, Sabrina,” said Miss Wardwell, and she smiled again, all sharp teeth and glittering eyes. </p><p>	“You’re welcome,” Sabrina said faintly. </p><p>	"What are you planning to make next?" Miss Wardwell took another bite of brownie. A little bit of chocolate was staining her chin. </p><p>	<i>I could lick it off</i>, Sabrina thought dazedly. <i>I could lean over the desk, over all those papers she's grading, and I could lick it off. If I kissed her, I bet it would taste like chocolate and strawberries. I've never kissed someone wearing lipstick before, what would it feel like?</i></p><p>	"Um," said Sabrina, after a moment of silence, and she realized that she was expected to say something. "Well. Um. I'm... I'm not sure. I'll see what we've got around, what I feel like making."</p><p>	"I have utmost confidence that whatever it is will be delicious," said Miss Wardwell, and she smiled that same slightly unsettling smile again, and Sabrina's stomach did a somersault. </p><p>	"Thanks," Sabrina said, and then she cleared her throat, and stood up. "I'll, uh, I should be going. Since my aunts are expecting me home. Since it's after school." She rubbed her hands together, and noted, in a distant sort of way, that they were damp with sweat. </p><p>	"One moment," said Miss Wardwell. She reached out a hand, and then her thumb was brushing at Sabrina's cheek, and Sabrina was blushing so hard that she was a little worried she might pass out. Miss Wardwell <i>had</i> to be able to feel the heat of it, right?</p><p>	Sabrina watched, transfixed, as Miss Wardwell licked the little dab of chocolate off of her thumb. "You must have gotten some on you," Miss Wardwell said. "Wouldn't want it to go to waste."</p><p>	"Right," Sabrina said dazedly. "Thanks." She gave a little half wave, and then she made her way into the hallway, her heart still pounding in her throat.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	When Sabrina took her bath that night, she submerged herself under the water and let one hand trail between her legs. She pressed down on her clit with the pad of her index finger, her other hand on her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple. The sound of Miss Wardwell's little hum kept playing through her head on a loop, and in the weightless heat of her bath, it felt less strange.</p><p>	Was it strange, to masturbate over her teacher? She was willing to admit she'd been harboring a little bit of a crush on Miss Wardwell, but this felt like... well, it felt like more than a crush. </p><p>	She surfaced, gasping, and the cool air was like a slap, in the best way possible. She came, her feet planted on the bottom of the tub and her hips jerking forward, sending little splashes onto the floor. Then she sagged back, panting up at the ceiling, and she closed her eyes. </p><p>	This was all normal. Perfectly normal. </p><p>	It all rang a little bit hollow, from the inside of her head, but she'd worry about that later. She had bigger things to focus her attention on right now, like how she was going to manage her classes at the Academy. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	After all the business with the dream demon - and finding out Miss Wardwell was a witch - Sabrina was a little too hurt to even think about baking. She did feel a slight pang of... something, when Miss Wardwell offered her almond cookies, but that could have meant anything. For all she knew, her teacher regularly bought them, and had just been humoring Sabrina the whole time.</p><p>	Another tiny little betrayal for her to nurse.</p><p>	(Sabrina knew, in her heart of hearts, that she was being melodramatic. She knew that, and yet she didn't know how to stop it. She ignored that little voice in the back of her head resolutely, and she went about her business, as best she could.)</p><p>* * *</p><p>	"Well," said Aunt Hilda, after the exorcism, "I think that's enough excitement for me, for a while."</p><p>	"Definitely," Sabrina murmured. She was staring moodily at the long table in the middle of the kitchen, which was still covered in piles of lemons and lemon curd. "Hey, Aunt Hilda?"</p><p>	"Yes, love?" Her aunt was bustling, but it seemed to be a subdued sort of bustling.</p><p>	"if you were kind of a jerk to someone, even if they deserved it, what would you make for them? Food wise, I mean." Sabrina wasn't sure why she was going down this road. </p><p>	When it came to Miss Wardwell, even when she was still sort of mad, she <i>still</i> wanted to impress her. Was it because Miss Wardwell was her teacher? Had it always been a crush? She still wasn't sure when it had gone from admiration to whatever kind of crush this was. </p><p>	It felt different from what she'd felt for Harvey, and maybe <i>that</i> was why she wasn't guilty about having a crush, because it was just so... different. </p><p>	"Something that would take time," Aunt Hilda said after a moment. "Something that would take effort." She paused. "I mean, all food takes effort, but something that shows that you worked hard for it." </p><p>		"Right," said Sabrina. Her eyes fell on the lemons piled up on the table. "Are you done making lemon curd, Aunt Hilda?"</p><p>	"I'm doing more tomorrow," said Aunt Hilda. "I do believe I'm gonna have an evening to myself, relax a bit." She sighed. "Nothing like an exorcism to wear you out, eh?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not exactly in the mood for food, neither, after all of that." </p><p>	Sabrina snorted. "I'm just jittery," she said. "Might do a little bit of baking or something."</p><p>	"Baking something for Harvey, then?" Aunt Hilda's tone was overly casual, and Sabrina rolled her eyes internally. </p><p>	"I'm not sure yet," Sabrina lied, although it wasn't entirely a lie, was it? She might change her mind last minute, and then decide to make it for Harvey after all.</p><p>	Probably not, but... still.</p><p>	"Well," said Aunt Hilda, giving her a canny look, "I'm off to bed. Clean the kitchen up when you're done." She kissed Sabrina on the forehead, and then she was off towards her bedroom. </p><p>* * *</p><p>	Sabrina didn't end up baking that night. She had planned to - she really did! - but then she sat down to page through Aunt Hilda's cook book, and then she was being shaken awake by Ambrose, and sleepily making her way to bed.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	Sabrina didn't go to school the next day. </p><p>	Aunt Hilda didn't give her a hard time about it, thankfully. She did watch as Sabrina did her own subdued bustling around the kitchen, washing more vegetables from the garden. Sabrina caught her glancing at the open page of the cookbook that was left open on the kitchen table. </p><p>	"You're gonna want to warm the bowl up," she told Sabrina, as Sabrina took a big metal bowl out of the kitchen cabinet. "So the yeast feels like it’s cared for."</p><p>	Sabrina frowned. "Cared for?" She took the little jar of yeast out of the fridge. </p><p>	"Yeast knows if you love it," Zelda said, as if she was conveying some great truth. "If you don't, it gets mad at you."</p><p>	"Is this a witch thing?" Sabrina leaned against the sink herself, watching Aunt Hilda carefully take out the carrots, then set the bowl in the sink and began to run the water over it. </p><p>	"Nah," said Aunt Hilda. "A baker thing. Although baking is a little like magic, isn't it?" She grinned. "You turning this stuff into that stuff. Like magic!" She made a silly hand gesture, and Sabrina giggled in spite of herself. </p><p>	"Didn't realize you had such strong feelings about baking," Sabrina teased. </p><p>	"Well," said Aunt Hilda, "kitchen witchery is a respected art, I'll have you know. Despite what your Aunt Zelda says." </p><p>	Sabrina nodded thoughtfully. "You're right," she said. </p><p>	"No need to be so surprised," Aunt Hilda teased. "I am, occasionally."</p><p>	"I'm sorry, Aunt Hilda," Sabrina said, and she kissed her aunt on the cheek, then took the bowl out from under the hot water. "The recipe calls for milk," she said. </p><p>	"Didja remember to warm that up, too?" </p><p>	"... no," Sabrina said sheepishly.</p><p>	"Well," Aunt Hilda said, "best get to it, then!"</p><p>* * *</p><p>	Sabrina watched the yeast bloom, little bursts of golden bubbles and foam rising to the surface of the milk. It smelled thick and potent, like beer. <i>I'm sorry</i>, she tried to send into the dough, as she carefully weighed out the flour and the salt, dumping them into the bowl. She pressed <i>thank you</i> into the dough with each fold, and <i>I think I'm in love with you</i> as she spread the filling over the wide rectangle. She rolled it up carefully, and sliced it just as carefully, then arranged them all on the sheet pan that Aunt Hilda had set out for her. The scent of the lemon filling was a bit like a kick in the face. </p><p>	"So," Aunt Hilda said, as Sabrina sat at the table and beat the powdered sugar, cream cheese, and lemon juice, "is this for Harvey?"</p><p>	"No," said Sabrina, and she looked down into the bowl. "Just a, uh, thank you gift, for Miss Wardwell. Since she helped us with the exorcism."</p><p>	“What are they?” </p><p>	“Lemon rolls,” said Sabrina. “Susie’s dad is allergic to cinnamon, so she makes these for him sometimes.” </p><p>	"That's awful nice of her. And of you," said Aunt Hilda. "You gonna bring it to school tomorrow?" Her tone was bland enough that it was making Sabrina nervous - Aunt Hilda was <i>never</i> bland. </p><p>	"Nah," said Sabrina. "I'll drop it off at her house." She was <i>still</i> blushing, all the way up to her hairline.</p><p>	"Very nice," Aunt Hilda said. </p><p>	Sabrina glanced up at her aunt, and then back down at the frosting. She didn't know if she could take... whatever it was she was reading into Aunt Hilda's expression. </p><p>	"All your teachers should be so lucky," Aunt Hilda added, and she stood up, pressing a kiss to the top of Sabrina's head, then making her way out. "Don't forget to clean up the kitchen when you're done, love," she called back. </p><p>	"Will do," Sabrina called back. </p><p>	The quiet - apart from the little kitchen noises - was a bit much, but at least she could wait for her cheeks to stop burning quite so hard.</p><p>* * *</p><p>	"Sabrina," said Miss Wardwell, and she pulled her green robe a little tighter around herself. Sabrina recognized the green robe as the one her teacher had worn, that time with all the nightmares, and she blushed. It had featured in some... other dreams of hers, although they had very much not been nightmares. </p><p>	"Miss Wardwell," Sabrina said, and she held out the tin. "I wanted to say sorry. And thank you."</p><p>	"You don't need to apologize to me, Sabrina," Miss Wardwell said, and something in her face went soft. She looked almost... vulnerable, with her hair a cloud around her face and her robe clutched tight. "I completely understand why you reacted like you did. It can always be a surprise, when someone isn't who you expect them to be." There was something complicated in Miss Wardwell's expression, and it made Sabrina want to... what? Kiss her? Comfort her? </p><p>	She remembered coming in her bathtub, thinking about Miss Wardwell eating the brownie, and her hands were shaking as Miss Wardwell took the tin. </p><p>	"What's this?" Her teacher smiled at her, and Sabrina <i>really</i> needed to stop thinking about the way Miss Wardwell's eyes crinkled up at the edges, and what it would feel like to kiss her smiling mouth. </p><p>	"I, uh... we had a lot of lemons," Sabrina said. "But I'm interrupting your evening, let me -"</p><p>	"Oh, please come in," said Miss Wardwell. "You're always welcome here, Sabrina." She stepped back, and Sabrina stepped in. She kept her eyes on the floor in front of her, and she felt herself blush all the way up to her eyebrows, as she looked down at Miss Wardwell's painted toenails. She'd never noticed someone's feet before, not really. Why was she thinking of them now?</p><p>	"Thank you," Sabrina said quietly. "I don't want to intrude."</p><p>	"You are <i>never</i> an intrusion," Miss Wardwell promised her, and she put a hand on Sabrina's arm. </p><p>	Sabrina tried not to squirm. "Thank you," she said. </p><p>	"Please, sit," Miss Wardwell said, and she indicated one of the chairs around her little table. "I'd love to share these with you. What did you say they were?"</p><p>	"Lemon rolls," said Sabrina. "They're, uh, they're like cinnamon. Only lemon." <i>Nice one, Spellman.</i></p><p>	"That sounds delightful," said Miss Wardwell. She was leaning forward, and her robe was falling open enough that Sabrina could make out the valley between her breasts. <i>What if I just put my whole face there?</i> </p><p>	"I'm glad you like it," Sabrina said faintly. She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, and she tried to think unsexy thoughts. </p><p>	Miss Wardwell opened up the tin, and she smiled. </p><p>	"I'm sorry for all the icing," Sabrina burst out. "I, uh, I think I might've overdone it, but the recipe -"</p><p>	"I don't see the point of a sweet bun, if you don't cover it in icing," Miss Wardwell interrupted. She picked up one of the rolls and took a bite, and there was a glob of white icing on her cheek now. </p><p>	<i>I want to lick that off</i>, thought Sabrina, then; <i>have I ever been this... thirsty?</i> </p><p>	"Mmm," said Lilith, and there was that same little hum that sent Sabrina's stomach clenching. "That is absolutely <i>delectable</i>. You're turning into quite the kitchen witch, aren't you?"</p><p>	"I'm, uh, I'm doing my best," Sabrina mumbled. She was twisting her fingers together, and...that was Miss Wardwell's foot pressed against her ankle. She was almost positive of it, but that couldn't be right, because why would Miss Wardwell do that?</p><p>	"Every time you bring me something, it seems to be better than the last thing you made," Miss Wardwell said. There was an almost breathless quality to her voice, and that was <i>definitely</i> her foot, making its way up Sabrina's leg, over the thick fabric of Sabrina's tights. </p><p>	Miss Wardwell's foot was surprisingly warm. Not that Sabrina had spent a lot of time thinking about how warm or cold feet would be, but hers were always cold. And Miss Wardwell's were... not. Very much not. Oh. </p><p>	"I... I like to get better," Sabrina said. Her own voice was getting breathless. "And I wanted to... to thank you, for your help. With the exorcism. And I'm sorry I got mad at you."</p><p>	"I do appreciate the apology, Sabrina, although you really don't need to make it," said Miss Wardwell. "And anyway, we sorted the problem, didn't we?" She took another bite of the lemon roll, and her foot went higher up Sabrina's leg, until it was resting on her knee, her toes pressing to the underside of the table. </p><p>	Sabrina looked down at the table, and Miss Wardwell adjusted herself, her robe falling a little bit more open, her foot inching its way up Sabrina's leg. <i>Am I being seduced?</i> </p><p>	She'd never been seduced before. She and Harvey had more or less shot cow eyes at each other for weeks, until Roz had gotten tired of it and told them to go talk to each other before she screamed. </p><p>	But Miss Wardwell was just... looking at her through hooded eyes, and smiling, slow and sly. </p><p>	Sabrina couldn't even rub her thighs together, because Miss Wardwell would be able to <i>tell</i>, and Sabrina would rather die than think about her teacher knowing what it was that she was feeling. What she was <i>thinking</i>. </p><p>	"So how are things at the Academy?" Miss Wardwell idly rotated her ankle, pressing her heel into Sabrina's leg, and Sabrina brought her hand down. It was close enough to Miss Wardwell's foot that she could feel the body heat, but it wasn't <i>technically</i> touching. </p><p>	"They're... fine," Sabrina murmured. She brought her hand a little closer, until the back of her knuckles were just barely touching the sole of Miss Wardwell's foot, and she kept her eyes on her teacher's face.</p><p>	Miss Wardwell's face stayed the same, as Sabrina's hand wrapped around her foot and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad," she said, and she sighed, flexing her foot in Sabrina's grasp, but not trying to get away. "It's always important to stay up to date with your studies, whether they're magical or otherwise."</p><p>	<i>I feel like I'm missing something</i>, thought Sabrina, as she explored with the tips of her fingers. She could feel the sharp boniness of Miss Wardwell's heel digging into her, and then she slid her fingers between Miss Wardwell's toes. "I've always tried to be a good student," Sabrina said. </p><p>	"You're a very quick learner," Miss Wardwell agreed, and her toes curled against Sabrina's palm.</p><p>	Sabrina blushed, and she cleared her throat. "It, uh, it's getting late," she said,  but she didn't let go of Miss Wardwell's foot. They were balancing on the very edge of... something, and Sabrina wasn't sure what it was. </p><p>	"It is," Miss Wardwell said. "Although as late as it is, it  may not be safe for you to go home on your own." She was saying... something with her eyes, something that Sabrina didn't understand. </p><p>	"No, I, uh... my aunties would worry," said Sabrina. "But thank you." She gave Miss Wardwell's foot another rub, before it was lifted away.</p><p>	"Well," said Miss Wardwell, and she ran a finger along her cheek, collecting up most of the icing that had collected there, "wouldn't want to worry your aunties, would you?" </p><p>	"Thank you, though," Sabrina said. She stood up, rubbing her hands together, and then she cleared her throat. "You can, uh, you can give me the tin back at school."</p><p>	"Of course," said Miss Wardwell. She stood up as well, and her robe opened enough for Sabrina to get a good look at her thigh, before Miss Wardwell was standing up, tying the robe tighter. "Thank you again for the lemon rolls. I look forward to eating them."</p><p>	"I'm sure they look forward to being eaten," Sabrina said, and then she froze, and blushed. <i>What does that even mean?!</i></p><p>	Miss Wardwell smiled, and the little bit of icing on her face caught the light. Before Sabrina had a chance to think, she was leaning forward, her thumb out. "You've got a bit of, uh..." She rubbed the icing off, and Miss Wardwell leaned into her hand, pressing her cheek into Sabrina's palm. Her skin was very soft, and very warm. </p><p>	"Good night, Sabrina," said Miss Wardwell. </p><p>	"Good night," said Sabrina, and then she was out the door. </p><p>* * * </p><p>	Sabrina lay in bed, the covers pulled over her head, and she rubbed her clit, covering her mouth with her other hand. She remembered the feeling of Miss Wardwell’s foot against her, the way Miss Wardwell had leaned into her touch. She remembered the plunging neckline of Miss Wardwell’s robe, and she imagined what it would have been like if she’d pushed that robe open, if she’d leaned forward. She knew her teacher hadn’t been wearing anything under the robe, and Sabrina wanted… what did she want?</p><p>	She wasn’t sure, except the idea of pulling open the robe was enough to make her whole body shudder through an orgasm, and when she was spent, she lay, panting in the safe darkness of her covers, and tried not to think too hard about whatever this meant. </p><p>	Sabrina popped her head out from under the blankets, and she took a deep breath of the cool air, then rolled onto her stomach, pressing her face into her pillow. This was all normal. Completely normal. Normal and fine and exactly how everyone else felt about their teachers.</p><p>	She didn’t quite believe herself, but nobody was ever at their most convincing when they’re falling asleep.</p><p>* * *</p><p>		After... everything (with Harvey and Tommy, and Agatha, and going to Limbo), Sabrina stood in her kitchen, and she baked. </p><p>	There was something oddly comforting about it; carefully weigh out the butter, the flour, the sugar. She was existing a few inches to the left of herself, but she wasn't going to think about it. She wasn't going to think about what it had felt like, to walk through Mortal Purgatory, holding on to the string. She wasn't going to think about slitting Agatha's throat, and the odd <i>rightness</i> of it.</p><p>	She wasn't going to think of the way Harvey had looked at her, when he ended it. </p><p>	She was going to carefully line the pan with parchment paper, and she was going to use a spatula to get the evaporated milk into the bowl, and carefully whisk it with the canned pumpkin and the eggs and the sugar and the cinnamon and the nutmeg and allspice. She could understand why Aunt Hilda liked baking so much - the ritual of it was a little bit like doing a spell. You put in the things you needed, you kept your mind centered and your hands steady. </p><p>	She wasn't aware that she was crying, until she saw the dark spots on the shortbread that she was pressing into the dish in front of her. She sighed, and she wiped her face with the back of one hand, and picked up the bowl, to pour the pumpkin pie mix over the shortbread. She wasn't even sure why she was doing this - was it because she missed her friends? Because she wanted to say thank you to Miss Wardwell - <i>again</i>? </p><p>	Sabrina smoothed the mix over with a spatula, carefully, methodically. </p><p>	"Another project, then?" </p><p>	Aunt Hilda's voice was surprisingly loud in the kitchen, and Sabrina jumped, and dented the pumpkin pie filling. </p><p>	"Hm? Oh, yeah." Sabrina sniffed, and she gave Aunt Hilda a watery smile. "Yeah, something like that." She didn't want to be caught crying, not after... well, everything that had happened. Somehow, it felt immature.</p><p>	Or maybe she was just trying to avoid her feelings. That was, admittedly, a viable option. She'd attempted it in the past, although it had never gotten her very far.</p><p>	"What's this one?" Aunt Hilda set her handbag down on the kitchen table, and she came to lean against the counter, practically radiating concern. It was putting Sabrina's teeth on edge. </p><p>	"Pumpkin pie bars," said Sabrina. "With, uh, with shortbread crust. Roz gave me the recipe a while ago."</p><p>	"Seems like a nice workaround, if you don't wanna deal with all the hassle of pie crust," said Aunt Hilda. "Always had trouble with pie crust - I've got bread makers hands, me." </p><p>	"Bread makers hands?" Sabrina looked up from her careful smoothing out. </p><p>	"See, with pastry, you want cold hands, because the butter doesn't melt. With bread making, you want warm hands, to activate the yeast." She put a warm hand on the back of Sabrina's neck. "This going to be a gift for Harvey?" </p><p>	"No," said Sabrina. "Just, uh, just for Miss Wardwell. She helped me a lot. She's a good teacher." She was keeping her eyes on the glossy surface of the pumpkin pie mix. </p><p>	"Your teacher is very lucky, to have such a devoted student," said Aunt Hilda. "Unless she's done anything in particular to inspire such devotion, I mean?" </p><p>	Sabrina glanced up, and she caught her aunt shooting her an expression that was downright <i>canny</i>. It always unsettled her, when Aunt Hilda showed just how smart she was. </p><p>	Not that she believed her aunt was dumb - far from it! But... well, Hilda hid all of it in good cheer and loud sweaters, and sometimes glimpses of it came out, and it was like being bitten by a friendly dog. </p><p>	"I just... like her is all," said Sabrina, and she cleared her throat. "The recipe said to put this in for fifteen minutes, but our oven is kinda finnicky. So I'm thinking twenty minutes?"</p><p>	"That'll probably do, yeah," said Aunt Hilda. "D'you want to talk about it?"</p><p>	"Not particularly, no," Sabrina said, and maybe she said it a little more forcefully than she meant to, because she caught Aunt Hilda's expression. "Um. Sorry." She sighed, rubbed her face. "I think I'm just... absorbing everything," she said quietly. "And I know it's all a bit... much."</p><p>	"You could say that, yeah," Aunt Hilda said, and her voice was dry. "Take care of yourself, my love," she said, and she kissed Sabrina on the cheek. "Don't forget to wash up, and don't stay up too late."</p><p>	"I won't, Aunt Hilda," said Sabrina, and she leaned against the counter. </p><p>	Aunt Hilda had left her purse on the table, and Sabrina could see the stopper of one of the little bottles of potions she always kept on her. An idea was beginning to percolate - a horrible idea, to be sure, but the past few days had been nothing but horrible ideas coming to fruition, and what was one more?</p><p>	Anyway, what was the worst that could happen? </p><p>	Sabrina looked around furtively, then grabbed the little bottle of Love. She squeezed the bulb, then dripped it across the top of the pie. She stirred it all in, then squirted a little more, just to be on the safe side.</p><p>	It wouldn't be a big deal, right? Just a little thing, so that maybe Miss Wardwell could have an inkling of Sabrina's feelings. It was totally above board. Heck, Aunt Hilda might even approve!</p><p>	Not that Sabrina would say anything. Although would baking it have any impact on the love potion? Probably not. Worst case scenario, her pumpkin pie might taste a little... off, and she could live with that. In theory, at least.</p><p>	Sabrina opened the oven, carefully, pushed the pie in. She closed the door, and she set the timer, then rolled up her sleeves and made her way to the sink. She could get some dish washing in while she waited, right? </p><p>* * *</p><p>	Miss Wardwell opened her front door, and she looked down at Sabrina. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and she looked confused. "Sabrina?"</p><p>	"Miss Wardwell," Sabrina said, and she cleared her throat. "Hi." </p><p>	"Sabrina," Miss Wardwell, "I wasn't expecting to see you at this late hour, after all that excitement."</p><p>	Sabrina looked down at the tin she'd put the pumpkin pie bars in. She had left them in the fridge for a full day, like the recipe suggested, and she'd come to see Miss Wardwell after her aunts had gone to bed. She knew, by now, that her teacher kept odd hours, so she had figured it would be alright.</p><p>	Maybe she had miscalculated. </p><p>	"I can, uh, I can go," Sabrina said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. She tried not to look her teacher up and down too much - Miss Wardwell wasn't in a robe this time, and Sabrina wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was less distracting, true, but... she had liked seeing <i>all</i> that skin on display. </p><p>	"No, no," said Miss Wardwell, and she stepped back, gesturing for Sabrina to come inside. "You're always welcome in my home."</p><p>	"Thank you," Sabrina said, and she made her way inside. She toed her shoes off by the door, and then she was standing in Miss Wardwell's small living room in her socks, clutching the tin. </p><p>	"Did you bring me something else? I really have been enjoying your baked treats." Miss Wardwell smiled at Sabrina, and her eyes crinkled up around the edges. Sabrina wanted to feel those crinkles against the pads of her fingers.</p><p>	The usual rush of guilt didn't hit her, and that was a surprise, but then again... well, it wasn't as if she was dating Harvey anymore, was it? He'd broken up with her. </p><p>	Sabrina's face must have done something, because Miss Wardwell was coming over, wrapping her up in a hug. The tin was stuck between them, and the cold metal was leaching through Sabrina's sweater, her t-shirt, and right to her belly. It probably wasn't comfortable for Miss Wardwell either, but her teacher was still holding her close. </p><p>	"I know that you and Mr. Kinkle were very close," Miss Wardwell said, "but maybe it's for the best." She drew back, and she held Sabrina's face in her hands, her thumbs gentle against Sabrina's cheeks. "It can be... difficult, mixing the two lives."</p><p>	"Didn't you have a mortal lover?" Sabrina asked. </p><p>	"I did," said Miss Wardwell. "That's how I know." Her face looked very sad, and Sabrina was struck with an <i>intense</i> urge to stand up on her tiptoes and kiss Miss Wardwell, right then and there. </p><p>	"I should, uh, I should get going," said Sabrina. She held out the tin, and Miss Wardwell took it. </p><p>	"I must insist you try one," said Miss Wardwell. She set the tin out on her small table, and she took one of the little bars out. The custard on top wobbled, just a little, and the shortbread was crumbly enough that a few crumbs dropped down. She took a bite, and then she got a peculiar look on her face. </p><p>	Sabrina's stomach dropped, and she tried to keep her expression completely neutral. "Sorry," she said, and she licked her lips. "I must have, uh, messed something up. I'll just... take those back." </p><p>	"No, no," Miss Wardwell said. She swallowed her bite, and put the little bit of custard and shortbread down onto the table. She didn't even seem to care about putting down a plate. "You know, Sabrina," Miss Wardwell said, and she came around the table, to stand in front of Sabrina, "I'm a bit older than I look."</p><p>	"That's how it is with most witches, isn't it?" Sabrina said. She licked her lips - they were close enough together that Miss Wardwell's breath was stirring the little hairs along her temples. It was giving her goosebumps. </p><p>	"Oh yes," said Miss Wardwell. "And I've had experience with, for example... love potions." She raised an eyebrow. </p><p>	Sabrina flushed, all the way to the roots of her hair. </p><p>	"I know you'd be above that sort of thing," Miss Wardwell continued. "Far above that sort of thing. You're a mature enough young woman that you'd let your intentions be known in a <i>much</i> more straightforward way, wouldn't you?"</p><p>	Sabrina wasn't thinking, when she got up on her tiptoes and kissed Miss Wardwell, right on the mouth. She leaned back onto her heels, staring up at Miss Wardwell, and she opened her mouth to... what? Apologize? Stutter out an explanation? Babble about how she knew this was a bad idea but - </p><p>	"About time," breathed Miss Wardwell, and then she was bending down, her hands moving to Sabrina's shoulders. She kissed Sabrina this time, and it was a <i>proper</i> kiss, tilting Sabrina's head back to get her tongue deeper into Sabrina's mouth, and her fingers were fisted in the fabric of Sabrina's shirt.</p><p>	Miss Wardwell kissed with enough skill that it left Sabrina limp and trembling, clinging to the front of Miss Wardwell's dress. It was like <i>melting</i>, and how could Miss Wardwell be this good? Sabrina felt like she'd be able to at least <i>tell</i>, from looking. Or something.</p><p>	Maybe.</p><p>	It was getting harder to think, as Miss Wardwell backed her towards one of the chairs by the fire. She let herself be pushed down onto it, and that broke the kiss. Sabrina ended up panting, staring up at Miss Wardwell with wide eyes. </p><p>	"Aren't you going to... to say that we shouldn't do this because you're my teacher?" Sabrina sighed, as Miss Wardwell crouched down in front of her, kissing along her neck, hands going under Sabrina's sweater. Her hands were surprisingly warm, and Sabrina moaned, rolling her head to the side. </p><p>	"I may be your teacher in the mortal world, Sabrina, but right now, we're just a pair of witches, and witches may do what they will," said Miss Wardwell. The shadows from the fireplace did interesting things to her face, and Sabrina wanted to trace the craggy outlines, feel the delicate curve of her profile. </p><p>	"Do what you will," Sabrina whispered. </p><p>	"Exactly," said Miss Wardwell, and she kissed Sabrina again, her hands on Sabrina’s breasts. Her nose was cool against Sabrina’s cheek, her fingertips were hot as they twisted Sabrina’s nipples. </p><p>	Sabrina tangled her hands in Miss Wardwell’s hair, and she gave it a tug, as her teacher’s mouth moved lower, along her throat. <i>She could leave a mark</i>, Sabrina thought, delirious. <i>I don’t care, she can do whatever she wants to me, I want her to.</i> </p><p>	Sabrina let herself drown in it. She clung to Miss Wardwell, and she let herself be kissed, let herself drown in the sweetness and the warmth. At some point, her shirt was pushed up. Miss Warwell’s mouth on her nipple, and then there were warm lips moving down her stomach, and Miss Wardwell’s hair was ticklish against her belly.</p><p>	“Has your Mister Kinkle ever done anything like this for you?” Miss Wardwell asked, and she was pushing Sabrina’s skirt up, her thumbs hooking under the waistband of Sabrina’s tights.</p><p>	“No,” Sabrina murmured, and she lifted her hips obediently, </p><p>	“Well,” said Miss Wardwell, “after all of the nice things you’ve given me, I suppose it is now time for me to return the favor.” She smiled, all teeth and glittering eyes, and Sabrina was painfully aware of her wet pussy, her thighs sticky with arousal. </p><p>	<i>If this was one of Aunt Hilda’s romance novels, she’d say something about wanting something special to eat after all those things I’ve baked her</i>, Sabrina thought, and then she didn’t think anything, because Miss Wardwell’s tongue was hot and wet as it ran along her slit, nothing at all like she had imagined.</p><p>	Miss Wardwell licked, soft and wet, her tongue slipping between Sabrian’s labia. She arranged Sabrina’s knees over her knees, and she made some desperate wet noise against Sabrina’s vulva, and pressed her face in deeper. </p><p>	Miss Wardwell was lapping at her clit, and her tongue curled against the hard nub, then moved lower, gently probing at Sabrina’s hole. It was all so <i>much</i>, and it was so wet, so hot. It was so much more than Sabrina could have imagined it being. Not that she’d done much imagining. </p><p>	Well.</p><p>	Not much.</p><p>	Sabrina threw her head back, and she moaned up at the ceiling, her hips moving in awkward little jerks, her mouth wide open. She was clutching at Miss Wardwell’s hair, tight enough that it was biting into her fingers, and she was going to be marked up. She remembered all of those illicit masturbation sessions, and then she remembered the sensation of working dough under her fingers, and the two sensations seemed to be melding together in the base of her gut. She was going to come, embarrassingly fast, and she would have asked Miss Wardwell to pause, so she could savor it, but she was already falling over the precipice. </p><p>	Sabrina came against Miss Warwell’s face, as Miss Wardwell’s tongue worked over her clit. She slumped back against the chair, and when her teacher came up for air, Sabrina leaned forward awkwardly, nearly falling. She kissed Miss Wardwell, and she tasted herself, brine and musk. </p><p>	“Well,” Miss Wardwell said, and she smiled at Sabrina. Her eyes were dark, and her lips were swollen from kisses. Her chin was shiny, even in the firelight, and she looked positively <i>debauched</i>. “If you take to sex as well as you’ve taken to baking, I do believe that I’ve got an exciting evening ahead of me.”</p><p>	Sabrina’s stomach did a little flip, and hopefully the smile she flashed Miss Wardwell was more confident than she felt. “Just watch me,” she said, and she leaned in for another kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Recipes, in order of appearance -</p><p>Almond cookies (I added a quarter teaspoon of almond extract, for some extra oomph) - https://chocolatechocolateandmore.com/crisp-almond-cookies/</p><p>Strawberry brownies - https://foodess.com/strawberry-brownies-recipe/</p><p>Lemon rolls - https://www.butterbeready.com/lemon-sweet-rolls/?fbclid=IwAR1YG1HChy5bwGSzScBHtqDuGsnz8asDE1pXf62wcYy8UpdS97KjyjeMDec</p><p>Pumpkin pie bars (sans love potion) - https://www.thechunkychef.com/pumpkin-pie-bars/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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